Feisty Repartee

TSOTF, Part 7

Kate walked sleepily into her husband’s office, initially confused by the sound of his angry voice echoing throughout the house while he was supposedly in Rome. Jack was sitting in Martin’s chair, his legs crossed at the ankle, bare feet on the desk. It was obvious he had already taken his run along the beach, despite the obscenely early hour, by the rivulets of sweat dripping down his face and bare chest. He was calmly listening for a break in the loud string of cursing through the speakerphone.

“You told me to finalize things with Apex and they demanded their initial payment yesterday! I had to take the funds from my personal account to cover it. There’s barely enough in the business account to cover this month’s operating expenses. That left me with less than half of the amount you need. You’re going to have to liquidate -”

“Don’t fucking tell me what I am going to have to do, damn it!” Martin yelled back.

Jack sighed. “I thought the offer was exclusive,” he said, motioning Kate to his side of the desk. "Have you discussed that with them?"

“It was! I can’t reach anyone but Vincenzo, and he only wants to know if I am prepared to bid higher! My meeting with Coleman and the others is in two hours!” Martin growled. Jack raised a brow, picturing the look on Coleman’s face when he learned that Martin McKay’s sloppiness was about to cost him the greatest medical discovery since penicillin.

“Tell me which holdings to dump and the acceptable losses, and I’ll do my best to secure the funds by Thursday,” Jack said calmly, his right hand caressing Kate’s bare bottom. He looked up at her, amused it seemed, and it was then that she realized just how deeply his hatred for his father ran, and how powerful her lover really was.

That was one of the things that had drawn her to Martin to begin with. Not that he hadn’t been physically attractive to her the night she’d first seen him in Nicko’s, or that she hadn’t been impressed with the way he had worked the guests at his table, clearly in charge of every aspect of their evening. But when she’d overheard the unflappable chef fretting over the happiness of his powerful guest, she’d known Martin McKay deserved a second look.

She hadn’t thought the man would be interested in her at all, given that she was a skinny, pale, eighteen year old who lacked the social decorum and grace a man of his class would find appealing. When she’d managed to catch his eye, between the lobster and his appreciation of his date’s large bosom, she’d smiled weakly, feeling the heat of her nervousness in her cheeks, and then promptly knocked over his water glass, drenching his lap.

She’d been grateful that he had convinced Nicko that he had been the one who had been responsible for the mishap. He‘d literally saved her job, keeping her one small step from living on the streets, and she’d told him so as she graciously accepted his ridiculously generous tip.

That night, when she exited the rear of Nicko’s just after one in the morning, thrilled by the prospect of actually being able to pay her rent on time that month, Martin was waiting for her. He was leaning against his BMW, a sexy grin on his face, and an offer for coffee and a slice of pie at the first open diner they came across. They never made it to a diner.

Four days later, Martin moved her into a luxurious condo and gave her spending money, so she would be available to him whenever the mood struck. When he offered to have her privately schooled in proper manners and dress, she swallowed her pride and learned to be the type of woman he wanted, determined to one day marry the man that had rescued her from her circumstances. His mentally fragile and sexually unappealing wife proved to be of little consequence.

Jack moved his fingers between her legs, and she pushed her thoughts aside and focused on the man she was in love with. She hadn’t been aware that the call from Martin had ended. All thoughts of her husband fled her mind with Jack’s touch, and she moaned her approval before he pulled her into his lap.

She briefly thought of the two lines that had appeared on the test stick this morning, her concern over how to tell him forgotten when she felt the first wave of pleasure.

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